And the People Bowed and Prayed
by the morrighan
Summary: We go back to Atlantis and reach a conclusion.
1. Chapter 1

And the People Bowed and Prayed

"Just don't call me Shep."

John Sheppard mumbled the line as he was lost in slumber. Mind consumed by the story he had just read. The voice of his son had interrupted his sleep, but the sound was far, far away. A distant echo that had no meaning as John stirred, then fell back into the dream.

Back into the escape of the nightmare he was facing.

White.

It was a screaming void. A chasm of pure brightness. The total absence of all color, of any color. Blazing and blinding. Painful to the eyes but it was all Moira Sheppard could see. A vast whiteness that stretched on and on and on, much like the scream that was trapped in her mind.

Going on and on and on.

Moira gasped, struggling to breathe. Fighting against the whiteness, the nothingness engulfing her. She thrashed, choked, arms flailing, legs kicking. Pinned down by the whiteness she could not see or hear or even speak. Or even breathe. The only sound was that endless scream in her head that wasn't her own, wasn't her own. Color flooded. Memory flooded as the connection abruptly snapped.

"Moira! Moira, easy, easy, it's me, it's me!" John rushed to her side, catching Seamus Sheppard before the little boy was flung off the bed. He had been curled next to his mother, asleep. Johnny Sheppard stood close, biting his lower lip as fear swarmed in him. John set the little boy next to his brother, grabbed his wife's arms and held her even as she thrashed. "Moira! Can you hear me? Moira! Carson!" he bellowed, making the children jump.

Moira tensed, almost locking into a parody of rigor mortis. Then she slackened. Blinked. Breathed. Saw. Heard. Felt. But seeing John she began to fight again. "No! No! No! NO!"

"Moira!" John's hold tightened on her arms. "It's me! Your John! Moy, it's me! Your John! Our Atlantis! Our three children, hell, even the dog! Moira!"

She paused. Staring. Brown eyes filling with tears. She touched his chest. "John?" she whispered.

"Yes, Moy. It's me. You're here with me. Always have been. Always will be."

"I...I feel...I saw through her eyes. Her mind. He...you sent her back to him. To him..." Her words came slowly.

"Yes. If he wants a Moira he can have that one. Not you. Not the real one. Carson!" he shouted over his shoulder. Gave his sons a reassuring nod, a quick smile. The little boys were staring, wide-eyed. The older holding the younger's hand.

"Aye, I'm here, I'm here!" Carson Beckett ran to them. Skirted round the two boys and checked the machines. Then Moira. "Easy, love. You're safe. Her brain activity is normal now. Solely hers. It's no longer connected, Moira."

Moira's gaze was locked with John's. As his hold gentled her fingers clutched at his black t-shirt. "I was there. Saw him...I thought I was, I thought I was really there. That you had sent me instead of, instead of..."

"No. Not you, sweetheart. Never," John assured, but couldn't deny the wave of relief that swept through him. That he had indeed made the right decision, chosen the real Moira over the identical imposter. Chosen the human over the Wraith hybrid.

"He...he first thought it was me...but he...he saw...the Wraith needed to, to feed...she..." Moira swallowed. Eyes flooding again. She sat, flung herself against John. He held her tightly. Kissed her brow.

"Easy, Moy, easy. You're safe. You're you." He looked over at his sons. Tears were in their eyes. "It's all right, boys. Mommy was sick, real sick, but she's fine now. Johnny?"

The little boy concentrated, brow furrowing a moment. "Yes, daddy. Mommy feel right now. She didn't feel right before, not all mommy. But now she do."

"Does. Good. Don't cry, Seamus."

Moira forced her tears aside. Sat free from her husband, trying to be calm. She looked at her sons. "Boys?"

"Mommy!" they cried together, clambered onto the bed and hugged her. Crying.

Moira cried with them, hugging them and kissing them over and over. John wiped his eyes, emotions overwhelming at the sight of his little family restored. Safe. Secure. He tapped his earpiece. "Maggie, please bring Ems to the infirmary. Moira is fine now." He touched his sons, his wife. Turned to see Carson watching. Tears in his blue eyes, face crumpling with emotion. Relief. Happiness. "Well? You're sure?" he asked gruffly.

"What? Oh, yes." Carson wiped his eyes. Not embarrassed by the display of emotion like John was. "Thank God you chose the right one, John! By now the imposter would be starting to regress to her Wraith origins as Moira felt happening. Their mind link is broken. Moira needs to rest but she'll be fine. I want to keep her here for another hour to monitor her."

"Okay, doc."

"Daddy! Daddy! Mommy better now!" Seamus declared, all smiles.

"Yes, buddy, she is. It's all right. Ah." He smiled, turned and took Emily Sheppard from her stroller. "Thanks, Maggie! Here we go, princess. Mommy's better now."

The baby cooed at her father, then babbled as she set on her mother's lap. "Mama mama mama!"

"Emily!" Moira took the infant. Kissed and cuddled her. Cuddled the boys to her as well. John relaxed. Patted the dog who barked a greeting, then sat next to the bed. Tail thumping the floor.

"John! Is she...thank God!" Rodney McKay ran into the infirmary, almost ran into Maggie as she was leaving, then skidded to a halt at the foot of the bed, seeing the emotional family reunion. He smiled. Felt tears of his own.

"Yes, Moria's recovered. And is my Moira," John assured, lest there be any doubt.

"Thank God!" Rodney repeated. "Oh! Here. I found it."

John smiled. Took the gold wedding ring from Rodney. "Thanks!"

Moira was watching, quirked a brow. "Is there something I should know about you two?"

"Hilarious, Moira!" John scolded, but smiled at her. Rodney grinned. Carson laughed.

"Daddy, daddy! I'm hungry!" Seamus complained.

"Hungry? Again? Didn't I feed you yesterday?"

"Daddy!" Johnny scolded, but laughed.

"You too? I guess I better get some food."

"Me three," Moira said, calmed at last.

"Me four," Rodney added. "I'm starving! I've been so very worried about you, Moira," he explained, sitting on the edge of the bed. "And of course about the boys and little Ems there. You have no idea how we've all been worried about you and oh, John too, I guess."

"Gee, thanks, Rodney," John quipped. The boys laughed.

"Um, colonel, were you going to return that to me, or did you have someone else in mind?"

"Huh? Oh. Yeah. I guess," he sighed in resignation. But smiled at her scowl. He took her hand. Slid the wedding band onto her finger. Kissed her hand. Leaned to brush his lips across hers. "Only you, sweetheart."

"Dada dada dada goo!"

"Later, princess. I can only handle one Sheppard woman at a time." He stood. "All right, boys! Let's get mommy some breathing space here!" He lifted the boys, set them onto the floor. "You can help me grab some lunch. What do you want, Moy?"

She shrugged. "Whatever. Sandwich, fries, pink lemonade."

"Lemonade?" Rodney asked, moving to his feet and grimacing.

John smiled. "Yeah, lots of lemons. Let's go, boys! Ems, stay with mommy. You too, Meredith!" He snorted, hearing Rodney's irritated grunt. "Heel, Rodney!"

"Ha ha, John! You're a riot!" Rodney snapped, but the humor was welcome. Normal.

"Back in a few, sweetheart."

"What's that?" Moira pointed to the floor.

"Huh? Oh, my book." He lifted it, placed in on the chair. "It's pretty good."

"Vegas Blues? So you finally got around to reading it?" she chastised.

"Yeah. A detective story set in Vegas. Helped me take my mind off things. Sort of." He shrugged, recalling how he filled the story with people in his own life. He stared at the book a moment.

"John? Weren't you going to get lunch?" Moira reminded.

"Yes, John, make it quick, would you? I'm starving!" Rodney added.

"Okay...I...okay. You can get your own, Rodney." Yet he still hesitated, eyes on her now.

"John, I'm fine. Go. Johnny and Seamus are getting smaller by the minute!"

"What? Mommy, mommy we smaller?" Seamus looked down at himself in alarm.

Johnny laughed. "Come on, daddy!" He pulled at his father's hand.

"All right, all right," he grumbled.

Moira smiled. Watched them leave. She cuddled the baby as Emily gurgled, clutching at her mother. "Carson."

Carson nodded. "Go on, Rodney. I've got this. Go!" He shooed Rodney to go after John. The doctor moved to her. "Your vital signs are normal. How do you feel?"

"Exhausted. She was, she was draining me, wasn't she?"

"Aye, love. Physically, emotionally, mentally. Stealing your very identity." He patted her hand. "We couldn't tell which of the two of you was the real Moira. She was that powerful. That insidious. Only John knew. Only John could tell."

"Thank God," Moira murmured. "If he...if he...if..." She shuddered.

"You're safe, Moira. Home where you should be. Where you belong. Relax. I want to be sure you're clear of any other influences."

Moira nodded. Kissed the baby and cuddled her. Stared at her restored wedding ring. Emotions conflicted. "John? I need to see John. John? Where's John?" A sudden panic seized her.

"Easy, love. Here." Carson handed her an earpiece. "He went to get your lunch. You can talk to him, never fear."

"Sorry, I...sorry." She put on the earpiece. Tapped it. "John?"

John was guiding his sons as he carried two full trays. Directing Rodney as he filled yet a third. Moira's voice in his ear startled him. He nearly dropped the food. "Moira?"

"John...I...just..."

He heard her relief, her distress. "We're on our way, Moy. Don't you worry. And yes, I got you extra fries although you will probably snag mine anyway," he grumbled, realizing she needed the sound of his voice. Calm. Reassuring. The normalcy of daily life.

She smiled, relaxing. "Now would I do that?"

"Of course you would. You always do. No, Seamus, no ice cream today. Junior, carry that. No, Rodney, no, wait, yes, chocolate is always good. For everyone, not just you!"

"Sounds like you need help," Moira commented.

"What? Sheppard men never need oh no. Seamus! Later, buddy, okay? Johnny, can you handle that? Sorry, Moy. Boys! We're coming to you now. Apparently they want to bring the entire mess hall to you. Hey, are you that hungry?"

Moira laughed. "Yes, I might be that hungry, sweetie."

"Good. So...baby, are you hungry for anything else?" His voice lowered, tone suggestive.

"John!"

He chuckled. "I'll take that as a yes. And I merely meant dessert."

"Sure you did, sweetie. Will you move that fine, fine ass of yours, colonel?"

"Moving it, baby. Boys! Let's go, ASAP! Mommy's waiting for us! Rodney, let's go!"

Moira kissed the baby as she started to fuss, to whine. "I...oh."

"Here." Carson handed her a bottle from the stroller.

"Thanks, Carson." She fed the baby as she waited. The dog started barking as the infirmary was abruptly invaded.

"Mommy! Mommy, we got food!" Johnny declared.

"We got lots of food!" Seamus agreed.

"I just hope it is enough!" Rodney added. Carson grabbed a wheeled tray and set it near. Soon it was loaded with food and beverages. The three men grabbed chairs to set round it.

"And beer! Oh, that's for me. Boys," John directed, shaking his head. "Let's have a nice meal, all together."

"Pizza and beer!" Johnny declared. "Right, daddy?" All laughed.

"Right, son. Pizza and beer for everyone!"


	2. Chapter 2

And the People Bowed and Prayed2

John stood, sipping his beer. Watching as Moira put Emily to bed. Put the boys to bed at last. Kissing them, fussing over them. It was early in the evening. Quiet. The gentle motion of the waves could be discerned. Finally the family was alone. Gone were all the well-wishers, the friends. Gone were the doctors and nurses. It was just the family now, and soon it would just be Moira and himself. Finally. John was itching to have his wife all to himself.

Moira settled the boys. Kissed them again. Reassuring them. They had been frightened by seeing their mother like that, in hysterics, sick, not making sense. But things were fine now. Moira forced a calm onto herself for their sakes. Acting normal, showering them with love and attention. She adjusted the blankets around each one. Making certain they each had a favorite toy with them.

She stepped past her husband, wearily entered their bedroom. John followed, assessing as she stood, hugging herself. Staring at nothing, as if lost. Alone. Wrapped in herself now that she was away from the children. Now that she didn't have to pretend anymore. "Moy?"

"I..." Her words fell away as she stared round the room. The familiarity comforting. But in a way disconcerting as well. To think of an imposter in here, however briefly. So close to her children. So close to her husband. Replacing her, if only for a moment. Taking her life as its own. Taking her family. A thing she thought she would never have.

"Do you want to talk about it?" John offered.

"No."

"No?"

"I want a shower. A hot, hot shower and then I want to go to bed." She turned to him. "With you. I want...I just want you to hold me, John. Make all the nightmares go away." He nodded, took a step towards her but she held up a hand, halting him. "No. I...I need to...first..." She grabbed her pajamas and entered the bathroom. Shut the door.

John sighed. Worried. He could feel her tension, her sorrow. He downed his beer. Waiting. He heard the water running. Imagined her in it. Pushed the erotic visions aside and sat on the bed. Waiting. Trying not to worry. To wonder. Trying to imagine what she had endured. He could feel her utter misery and despair like a physical pain in him. He knew there was nothing he could to help her but wait. She had to make the first move.

Moira let the hot water drown her. Drown everything, but the flood of tears came anyway. Shook her to the core. All the horror, the violence. Most of all it was the dark side colonel that disturbed her. Using his son to get to her. She couldn't understand it. Couldn't understand how he could have done such a thing, using the Wraith of all things to infiltrate the city and to replace her. Steal her from her life, her love, her home. Steal her very identity. Placing everyone in danger, her children in jeopardy. If she knew one thing about John Sheppard, about any version of John Sheppard he would never risk a child's life or risk endangering those he loved. Or risk the city. But this version had done all of that, and it alarmed her.

The water had stopped. Silence. Utter silence. But John could feel his wife's emotions. Rippling between distress and sorrow, fear and relief. Until an odd calm settled. As if she was clamping down on her feelings, locking them tightly away. He was the one who did that, and feeling that similar action in his wife bothered him. He stood. Moved to the bathroom door. "Moira?" He listened. Heard nothing. Knocked on the door. "Moira? Moy?" He opened the door, imagining the worst. Picturing her doing something to herself. Harming herself. He entered briskly.

Moira was standing in front of the mirror. Damp hair trickling water on her lilac pajamas. She was staring at her reflection. Just staring. Brown eyes full of emotion that would come and go like the tide. John stepped to her. Slid his arms around her waist and drew her against him. "Oh!" she gasped, startled. "John?"

"Moira." He kissed her throat, her cheek. "What are you doing, sweetheart?"

"I...how did you know? How did you know it was me? Your, your evolved senses?"

John met her gaze in the reflection of the mirror. Her expression was serious. Curious. "No. I...I was terrified, Moy. That I'd make the wrong decision," he admitted quietly.

"Then how?"

"This." He moved his lips up to her ear. "My Moira," he said low, possessively. Licked behind her ear. She whimpered in response, a soft sound of arousal, tension. "The Moira thing."

"The...oh." She frowned. "Really?" She turned to him. "Really? John! I should have known it would be some sex thing with you!" she flared, embarrassed. Irate.

He smiled. "Yes, really. Even unconscious you respond to that. The other one didn't."

"And, and that's how you knew–"

"Yeah." He kissed her, cutting off her rising anger. "Moira. My Moira." He kept kissing her. Hands sliding down her back to grasp, squeeze her rear. She gasped as he hoisted her onto the counter. Kept kissing her. "Are you responding now, baby?"

"John? No." She pulled back from him. "I mean, I'm not...not sure if I can... I mean sex is...I mean I..." she stammered, blushing.

"All right." He kissed her again. "When you're ready, sweetheart."

She slid off the counter. Kissed him. "Get ready for bed, John." She quickly left. He stared after her, resigning himself to wait.

John entered the bedroom. Moira was in bed, staring at nothing. She looked lost, vulnerable. He moved past the bed to check on the children. All were fast asleep. He returned. Got into bed next to her. "Moy?"

She blinked back tears. Looked at him. "Why?"

A single question. One word. Fraught with emotion. Despair. Regret. Hurt. John could feel her desperate need to understand. Her confusion. Her misery. Brown eyes full of tears. A shiver ran up her back. John could feel an echo of it along his skin. Heightened senses taking everything in from her, with her.

He touched her arm, but she was stiff. Didn't want comfort. At least not the comfort of his embrace, his love. She needed the comfort of understanding. He considered, brow furrowing. "Opportunity," he finally answered.

She stared at him. "What? His son did need our help!"

"Yes, he did. And he genuinely wanted that help for the boy. At the same time...opportunity."

"But why? John, why?"

Her fragile voice tore at him. This need to understand, denying them both the comfort of each other. He gently stroked her arm. "Because...because he couldn't...he couldn't bear it any more." He swallowed. "Knowing you were here. With me. Alive. Mine. Those times you were with him, those brief tastes, they just weren't enough. Just made the, the craving worse. No one else would do. Nothing else. He was desperate to have you, Moira. But he doesn't love you. If he loved you he would never have gone to such dangerous extremes, or take you away from your children. Our children."

He paused, swallowed again. It was awkward, uncomfortable. Explaining the actions of his dark side version to her. Almost as if explaining himself, the darkness lurking within him as well. The actions of another man who wanted her, even if it was another version of himself. He resumed. "His desperation became an obsession, Moy. Which means he is more dangerous now than ever. Because if he can't have you he might decide no one can have you. He killed a Moira once. It's in him to do so again. This...this facsimile, it will do for now. But it won't last. It's not you. He wants what he can't have. And it's killing him, that he can't have you. What I have. What we have."

Moira was silent. Absorbing his words, his emotions. She snuggled against him suddenly, hiding her face on his chest. Closing her eyes and clinging to him. A silent sob shook her.

John held her tightly. Kissed her brow. Laid back and drew the blankets over them. He stroked her hair as she clung to him. "Easy, Moy, easy now. It's over. You're here with me, with our children. And you always will be. I won't ever let go, Moira. Ever. I love you."

"John," she whispered. Locked in horror, in misery. Trying to understand the desperate act of a desperate man.

"Ssh. Sleep now, sweetheart. I'm right here. I'm not going anywhere. You can talk to me, you know. Tell me anything. Any little thing. It's all right, Moira."

"No..." she whispered. "It will never be all right."

"What? What do you mean, sweetheart?" But she was silent. Eyes closed. Losing herself in his solid warmth. Familiarity. Protection. "Moira?" He frowned. Waited. But she was silent. Her hold gradually gentling as she at last relaxed in his arms, in their bed.

Screams.

Moira felt it, a jabbing pain in her side. An injection that made her flush, feel hot and the pain, the pain was excruciating. She woke. Stared round. The room was dark. Much darker than it should have been. And cold. Much colder than it should have been. She shivered as the sweat cooled on her skin. Icy trickles along her spine. She looked down to see she was naked. But she couldn't remember removing her pajamas.

She frowned. "John? John!" She nudged him. Shook him. Looked over as he rolled onto his back. She stared. Even in the darkness she knew. Could see his bare chest. The scars amid the chest hair. Could see the scruffy beard. He opened his eyes. Smiled. "Moira," he rasped. "Welcome home."

Moira sat, nearly bolting out of the bed. Gasping. "John! John!"

John was instantly awake. He caught her as she struggled with the blankets. "Whoa, whoa, Moy, it's all right! Moira, it's me! It's me, calm down!"

She ceased struggling, stared. The room was dark, but soft lights from the city played along the walls. The floor. The room was comfortably warm. And John was John. In his t-shirt and boxer shorts. Clean-shaven. She was in her pajamas. "John?"

"It's all right, Moy. Bad dream?"

She nodded, touched his arm, his chest. "No." She looked round again. "It...it was so real. So vivid! I was, I was there, John! I saw through her eyes...felt through her. The, the...I was in the other Atlantis, with him, with him, he..." She scrambled, checking her side. There was no puncture wound. No pain.

John drew her into his arms. Kissed her. "No, Moira. You're right here. With me. In our Atlantis. It's just a bad dream. That is all it was."

"Are you sure? It was so, so real!" Her fingers played nervously along his chest, grasping the fabric of the t-shirt.

"Yes, I'm sure. You're here with me, sweetheart. With our children. Our Atlantis. Relax, Moira. I'll keep you safe here. You're not going anywhere. You are here with me." He guided her back as they reclined.

She snuggled into him, holding onto him again. Afraid to let go, as if she could somehow slip away from him, from their life together. "John? It was so real, so real."

"Yeah. Nightmare. Only to be expected, Moira. This whole thing has been a nightmare. You're safe with me. Relax, sweetheart." He kissed her brow. Stroked her back, her long hair. Waiting, waiting as she slowly relaxed. Secure in his warmth, his love. "I won't let anything hurt you, I promise. Nothing touches you. Nothing."

"A nightmare?" she whispered. Wanting to believe him. Desperate to believe him.

"Yes. Probably so vivid because of what that thing was doing to you. It's all right."

"John? You, you, don't leave me, John." She scooted back to meet his gaze. Brown eyes filling with tears. "Please, John, please! I mean don't go on any missions! Don't leave me. Don't leave the city, please!"

"I'm not going anywhere, sweetheart. Relax. I'm with you. We can get through this together. I'm not leaving the city until we do. Go to sleep, Moy."

She snuggled into him again. "Thank you. I just need a little, a little time."

"You'll have all the time you need, I promise. In fact you will probably get sick of me."

She smiled. "Never that, John."

"Hmm. Maybe. Go to sleep."

"Okay, John. You...you don't have to babysit me or anything. Just stay in the city, okay? Okay, John?"

"Okay, Moira. I won't babysit you...fun as that would be, baby. I will stay in the city."

"Okay, John. Thank you." She snuggled, holding onto him. "My John, my John," she whispered, closing her eyes. Trusting in his love, his protection, his word. But a tiny voice in her mind told her it wasn't enough. It wouldn't be quite enough.

John stared at the darkness. Trying to convince himself that Moira would be fine now. That after a little time she would shake it all off, resume her duties, resume their intimacy and all would be well. That the bad dreams would pass.

Making himself believe it was just a nightmare. Desperate to believe it had just been a nightmare.


	3. Chapter 3

And the People Bowed and Prayed3

Moira sat in the biology lab. Staring at a computer screen. Information filled it. Information that would normally hold great interest for her. Facts and observations about the prehistoric, living fauna to be found on Pleistocene Park. A paleontologist's dream. But not now. She turned away from the words to the stroller beside her. The baby was prattling, playing with her pink elephant toy. Staring round with wide blue eyes. Astounded at the new environment. Moira watched her baby daughter for a moment. The child's dark curls framed a rosy face. She was small, delicate, but healthy.

Unlike her brothers Emily did not possess a double ATA gene. In fact she possessed none at all. A fact troubling to Moira but not John. She was his little girl, his princess, and as long as she was healthy that was all that mattered to him. But not to Moira. Moira was concerned over the child's time of conception. The possibility of John's evolutionary genes being in her, of mutated genes before he had been allowed to evolve and overcome the vicious side-effects.

Moira turned back to the computer and closed the window. Stared at her reflection in the monitor as the lights bounced off the screen. Her breath caught in her throat. She saw Wraith-like slits on her face. Alien eyes. The reflection smiled at her. "I am you and you are me," it said. Moira jerked backwards, almost falling out of her chair.

"Mama mama mama mama!" Emily prattled, waving her rattle, oblivious to her mother's fright.

"What?" She looked at the baby. Back at the screen. It was just her face again. Her own reflection of surprise, of fear, of puzzlement. She shook her head, blaming the hallucination on fatigue. She brought up the data again. Lifted the baby to her arms and held her. "It's all right, Emily. Mommy is just tired." She kissed the infant, gently bounced her. Tried to focus on the data on the screen, on the baby in her arms. On anything but the odd illusion.

On anything but the odd sensation of being in two places at once.

Johnny quirked a brow, very reminiscent of his father. "I don't unnerstand." He stared. "Mommy?" He was shaking his head, unconvinced.

Moira stroked his brow. He didn't look quite right, not as she remembered Johnny, but she smiled at the little boy. "It's all right, Johnny. I'm here now. I'm your mommy now."

"Daddy?"

Sheppard smiled. "Moira will look after you now," he rasped. "That's why she's here. To be your mommy. To help you get better. She won't make you sick, not like the others. Because this is the real one. The real Moira."

"Mommy?" Johnny asked, confused. "Mommy? Mommy? Mommy?"

Moira jerked, sitting up in the chair. She gasped, looked round, disorientated. Saw the familiar surroundings of her lab. Saw Emily napping in her stroller. Saw her son. Her Johnny. Standing, staring at her. Worry on his face as he had kept calling her and calling her. "Johnny? Johnny!" She flung herself out of the chair to him.

Johnny found himself engulfed in a hug. In kisses. "Mommy? You were sleeping, mommy," he explained, surprised at the rush of love for him.

"I was?" She sat back, viewed his face. "Oh yes, I was tired, darling. It's all right." She calmed, glancing at the stroller. Emily was awakening at the noise, starting to fuss. Little arms in the air, demanding. "Where's Seamus?"

"He with daddy. Mommy, are you okay?"

"Yes, I...sorry! I, I, I just missed you, is all." She smoothed down his clothes, his rumpled hair. "My Johnny." She hugged him again. He looked like Johnny should. Like a miniature version of his father, except for his blue eyes.

"I missed you too, mommy," Johnny replied, returning the hug. Confused, but reassured by her words, her love. "Can we have lunch now?"

"What? Oh. Okay." She smiled. Stood. "Did daddy send you to get me?"

"Yes, mommy." The little boy smiled. Mommy was acting like herself now, if a bit distracted. But she felt like mommy should. Not like earlier when she hadn't felt right. Before she had gotten sick. "I'm hungry!"

"Then let's go get some lunch, darling." Moira kissed Emily and wheeled the stroller out of the lab. Glancing back at the monitor for a moment. At the blank screen. She shivered. Led her son down the hallway, dismissing the image. "How were you lessons today?"

"Okay. We did some history stuff and we started a new book. I hate homework, mommy. Do I have to do homework?"

"Yes, I'm afraid so, darling. That's how you will learn."

"I don't like homework," the little boy complained.

"You don't, kiddo?" Rodney asked, joining them. "Why I quite liked it. Well, most of it. Not the useless bits like the PE and the literature stuff, I mean, really, who needs that in their life? I had to memorize poems! I mean, really, who needs that stuff in their heads? When would I ever need to suddenly espouse poetry of all things? But I loved the math and the science. Of course most of it wasn't advanced enough for me so I had to progress on my own but I managed. Moira, are you all right?"

Moira blinked at the verbiage. But it calmed her, centered her. Rodney was Rodney, as talkative and abrupt as always. "Yes, Rodney. I'm fine. Why?"

"You look rather pale. And tired." He studied her a moment, worrying.

"Mommy was sleeping in the lab," Johnny explained.

"Ssh! Don't tattle on me, darling!" she teased, earning a grin from the boy.

"Yes, ssh!" Rodney agreed. "We don't want the military commander to find out!"

"Find out what?" John asked as he met them. Gaze raking over his wife.

"Hi mommy!" Seamus grinned in his father's arms.

"Hi honey! Nothing. Let's get lunch," Moira said.

"Moy? Rodney? Junior, what?" His gaze encompassed each one as he waited for an answer.

"Mommy was sleeping in the lab," Johnny informed.

"Johnny! Ssh!" Moira scolded.

"You were? Wow! Your own work even puts you to sleep now? It's done that to me for years!" John jested. "Ow!" he protested as she hit his arm. The boys laughed. Even Emily chortled.

"Hilarious, John! Get us food! Now!" She pushed the stroller into the cafeteria. "Boys!" she called. Johnny ran after her. John set Seamus down. The little boy hastened to his mother.

"Is she okay?" Rodney asked, watching her.

"Yeah. Just tired," John replied. But his gaze remained on his wife.

Moira rolled onto her back, under the comforter on her bed. She smiled, feeling a man's body sliding along hers. Pressing. Felt kisses along her throat. A hand slipping under her shirt to enclose a breast. Calloused fingers rubbing, rubbing roughly.

"Moira," he said low, into her ear. "Moira."

She ran her hand along his arm as he moved over her. Very erect cock between her legs now. His mouth captured hers. "Moira," he said, but Moira started. Opened her eyes as a scraggly beard tickled her skin. As she suddenly felt nothing between them, not a stitch of clothing at all. As a harshness made his hands tighten on her arms, pinning her. As his kisses were deeper, harder. As his mouth moved down to suck at her breasts, to nibble and then to bite. Bite hard enough that Moira gasped in pain, in surprise.

"John? John, no, no, not like–" she stammered, squirming, staring at the darkened ceiling above her. At the dark version of her husband on top of her. Pinning her. Forcing her to yield to him. Something that her John had never, never done and never would.

He thrust abruptly inside of her before she was even ready. "Moira, you are home now." Each thrust was harder, harder, punctuating each word as he spoke into her ear. "Moira, you are mine now. Every inch of you is mine! And you will never leave me again!"

Moira struggled, threw the comforter off her. Fighting. Swallowing the scream trapped in her throat. Heart racing. She sat and stared round her room, the scream still caught in her throat. She ran to the bathroom, hunched over the toilet and vomited. Not much came up as she retched, retched. She sat back, catching her breath. Washed her face, her hands. Not looking in the mirror. Flushed the toilet and wiped her teary eyes. Rinsed her mouth out until she tasted fresh, clean. Until the sensations were not as vivid, not as terrifying.

She stepped into her room, hands running over herself to feel her clothing. She touched her lips. Touched her clothing again. They were messy. Rumpled not by a man but by her own thrashing. Her heart was hammering in her chest. She remembered that John had taken all three children to Maggie to keep watch over them. Leaving her to take a nap, undisturbed.

Except she had been disturbed.

She swallowed, pulse racing. She could feel an echo of what she had imagined, had felt. Repulsed but at the same time reacting because it had been John, not her John but an echo of her John. She knew her John would never treat her like that. She shook her head, confused. Uncertain. Only knowing what she needed. Whom she needed. She left the room, walking quickly down the hallways. Knowing where John would be. Not trusting her voice to use the earpiece. She entered the control room. Calming at the sight of her husband, her John as he stood at a console, studying a schematic. Expression serious. Handsome, clean-shaven. But as if sensing her distress or her sudden appearance he looked up at her.

"Moira?" He moved to her instantly. Gaze narrowing in concern. She appeared upset, nervous. Exhausted despite the nap she should have been taking, but apparently had not.

"John, John, we need to have sex!" she blurted, voice serious.

His lips quirked. "Okay." He glanced at the staring technicians. "Back in an hour. Get a full reading on the city. Let's go, Moy." He led her out of the control room.

Moira gulped at the stares, not realizing she had spoken so loudly. Making an order, not a request. She smirked. "Um, um, sorry, John. I didn't mean to just, um, um, say it like that. I just need–"

"Sex, got it, baby. Don't you worry. Not a problem. Not at all. So...what are we talking here? Hmm? Sweet and slow? Full fucking throttle? A quickie? No. Never just a quickie with my Moira. What about Sheppard's delight? Kinky? Shall we adjourn to the sex room for some messy exuberance?"

She laughed. "Love nest, and no! I just–"

"You need an hour or two of wild, wild sex to help you sleep soundly," John diagnosed with a grin. "Got it. I have to tell you, baby, that being used like this, solely for my body and my exceptional skills is, well, rather insulting."

"Shut up, sweetie, you love it!" She laughed. "And it's not just sex. I need you, John. I need to be with you. You. I need to feel you, your love, your passion, your, um, your–"

"Cock? All right, baby. I think we've established the mission parameters now," he teased. He guided her into their quarters. "But you haven't answered my question yet." He smiled at her. Gaze raking over her rumpled clothes, messy loose hair. Thinking of several sexual scenarios.

Moira smiled. Ran her hands up his chest. "Oh John...just...just be with me, John."

"As intimately as possible, baby, don't you worry." He kissed her, pulling her close. "Hmm...let's see. How about we do the wall first. A little rough sex to take the edge off, hmm? Then Sheppard's delight. Then we go for a double on the bed? That should do it, I think. Should seriously deplete you enough you'll be asleep before me, and that's saying something."

She laughed. His tone was serious, as if he was speaking about a military campaign. "John! Talk about taking all of the romance out of it!"

"Hey, you said you wanted sex, not romance. Lucky for you I am the sex guy."

"Yes, lucky for me, colonel,"she agreed dreamily.


	4. Chapter 4

And the People Bowed and Prayed4

John gently disentangled himself from his wife. He rolled onto his side, scooting along the big, comfortable bed. He grabbed his earpiece, tapped it. "This is Sheppard. Status?" he asked, voice drawling a little with echoes of pleasure. Fatigue. Happiness. He eyed their clothing scattered all over the floor. Smirked.

"We are still scanning all systems," Rodney's voice came over the earpiece. Sounding irritated, which meant things were fine. "So far so good. I still haven't found that glitch but I will."

"Copy that. Keep me apprised."

"John," Moira muttered happily. Snuggling up against his back. Her hand slid over his waist. She has slept soundly, dreamlessly after all of the exuberant activity. She was cozy warm under the blankets with him. Safe. Secure. He would not allow anything or anyone to hurt her. Not even in her dreams.

"Sheppard out." He tapped the earpiece. "Go back to sleep, Moira. I'm right here." He turned to her, arm sliding around her.

She snuggled into him. "John," she sighed happily. "Oh John!"

He smiled. Kissed her. Waited until she was drifting back to sleep, stroking her back, her hair. He tapped his earpiece again. "Maggie, status?"

"Colonel. The boys are playing a game and Emily is napping. Is Moira all right?"

"She's fine now. I'm looking after her. Give us another half hour, okay?"

"Of course, colonel."

"Thanks. Sheppard out." He relaxed, holding his wife. Mind playing over the sex they had enjoyed. Repeatedly. Uninterrupted for a change. Taking their time, there being no need to rush or keep quiet. But his mind turned to other concerns. The trouble Moira was having sleeping. How she was still pale, still tired. Still hadn't really opened up to him about what had happened to her. She was too quiet and that worried him most of all.

Moira had drifted to sleep at the sound of his voice, but now stirred at the absence of it. "John?" She slid on top of him. Kissed him. "John? Sweetie?" She nudged him. Circled his ear and gently bit.

John had just closed his eyes, sinking into a comfortable doze. He opened his eyes to meet her loving gaze, moaning in response to her provocations. "Hey, Moy. Better now, baby?"

"Oh yes, John! So much better," she purred. Kissed him. Kept kissing him as she squirmed on him, teasing. Inviting. Savoring the taste of him, the fullness of his perfect lips, his perfect mouth. "Oh John," she enthused breathlessly. He was warm and solid beneath her. His body hair tickling her bare skin. His love shining in his brilliant green eyes as he watched her. Turning to desire as she shifted, shifted on him. Thighs opening.

"Hmm...feels like you don't want to sleep any more, baby," he teased.

She smiled. "No. I just want to keep having sex with my husband. My John."

"Sounds good to me, baby." She laughed as he lightly smacked her rear, then rolled them so she was beneath him. He kissed her, body moving along hers. "Pert little ass," he fondly noted.

"John? The children?" she asked as he ran kisses up her throat.

"Fine. I just checked. Half an hour."

"Oh." She sounded disappointed at the shortness of the time they had remaining. But her mood changed as John trailed his mouth down her throat, down her breasts. "Oh! John...oh John..." she murmured as he slid down her body. Mouth and hands gliding with erotic expertise. Arousing, but gentle. Alluring, but not restraining her.

"Oh Moira, oh Moira," he echoed. "We can do quite a lot in half an hour, baby."

"John? Oh John!" she enthused, pulling him closer, lifting to welcome him, to give him every access but he suddenly slid up and rolled off her.

"Crap," he complained, voice husky. He tapped his earpiece. "Repeat that, lieutenant."

"Sir, we've located, sorry! Doctor McKay has located a brief energy surge in the lower levels. It was registering days ago but our sensors were off line. Sir?"

John softy groaned as Moira was kissing down his chest, waist. Stroking his cock into hardness. "Um, yeah...oh yeah...I mean, have McKay verify and send a team to no, belay that."

"Sir? Orders?"

"Moy!" he hissed, but she was nibbling his pelvis, still stroking. Squeezing. "Ah fuck," he breathed, enjoying her attentions. Her demands. She ran her nails up the hard length of him and John pursed his lips to trap the groan of arousal. "I'll be there in twenty. Sheppard out!"

Moira giggled. She slid up his body to kiss his lips. "No, colonel! Sheppard in. Sheppard in!" she teased hotly, straddling him. "Oh John! Sheppard in in in!" she exulted, moaning as she took him into her, gyrating wildly. Riding him hard, hands gripping his thighs as he lifted, thrusting avidly into her.

John was thoroughly enjoying the sex, the show. Moira's long hair flying all around her, naked body on view, breasts bouncing as she arched. Face contorting in pleasure as she whimpered and moaned. Her sounds only making him harder, harder. He thrust deeper as she clenched on him, fingers digging into his thighs now as the orgasm slammed into her. As his grabbed her rear and squeezed, squeezed. She cried out, breathless. Moving faster and faster, caught in a tidal wave of lust and need.

She looked at him, saw his enjoyment, his matching lust. Green eyes glinting, sweat sparkling in his scruffy beard, on his scarred chest. His grunts were deep, possessive. Hands tightening on her rear, shoving her to take all of him into her.

Moira gasped, blinked, almost freezing in shock. But it was her John under her, clean-shaven, gaze smouldering with passion, love. John grabbed her, sitting to fully engage his evolved senses, his engorged cock, taking her a little roughly but never hurting her as he kissed her. Tongue and cock in unison, every sense alive, alert. Rocking and rocking her until she cried out again, a loud exhalation as the climax shook her. He shuddered as he came, fell back, pulling her with him, onto him.

Moira blinked back tears of pleasure, slid to free him, to rest upon him. "John! My God, you..."

"Hey, that was you, baby. Damn! You didn't want sex, you wanted to fuck."

"John!" she scolded, sighed. "I don't...I don't..." Her brow furrowed. For a moment it had seemed to be another man under her. Still John, but not John. His dark side doppelganger. She felt a chill at the thought. Realized if that was the case, if she had been there with him then had her imposter been here with her John? She felt her gorge rise, forced it down. The idea too sickening to even contemplate. She looked at him again.

"What is it?" he asked, seeing a quick expression of dismay, of worry. As if a terrible thought had come and gone in the blink of an eye.

"Nothing. Nothing," she muttered, snuggling on him. Content that it was her husband, her John beneath her. That no other version had taken her like that, had seen her taking him.

Yet for a brief moment it had been someone else.

"Mommy!" Seamus ran to his mother, all smiles. Mommy was feeling better now since she had taken a nap and spent time with daddy, Maggie had said. Relived the little boy rushed to her.

Moira knelt, catching him. Kissed him. She was fully clothed, in her familiar Atlantis green and brown. The very picture of decorum, of modesty, unlike how she had appeared only thirty minutes ago. Naked, riding John in sexual exuberance. "Yes, honey. Let's go. Johnny, Emily. Thanks, Maggie."

"Any time, dear," the older woman smiled. "Did Colonel Sheppard take care of you?"

Moira smiled, moving to her feet. "Yes, he most certainly did." A giggle escaped her. Maggie smiled and the two women shared a laugh. An understanding.

"Daddy said you needed a nap," Johnny informed, puzzled at the two women's hilarity.

Moira met his gaze. "Yes, darling, I did. I was very tired. I'm fine now, don't you worry. Let's go back to our rooms, all right?"

"Did daddy read you a story to help you sleep?" Johnny asked.

Moira almost laughed. "No, darling, but he did help me sleep. Don't you worry."

"Were you making happy sounds again in that game?"

Maggie snorted a laugh. Moira pursed her lips together, trying not to laugh. "No, we were just playing another game, is all." She met the other woman's gaze. They shared a grin.

"Where daddy?"

"He's working, Seamus. But he will be with us soon. Let's go now."

John stood. Looked round the hallway. It was dark, deserted. Like several hallways in the lower reaches of the city. Unremarkable. Boring, even. "Are you sure it was here?" Lights flickered.

"Yes!" Rodney insisted. "I pinpointed the location!" Yet he checked his scanner to be certain. "Yes. It's here. I was right, of course."

"We haven't even been down here," John noted. Marking the location before he resumed his scan of the dark hallways. "This section has been closed for years. Nothing down here." He shone his P90 light across the darkness. "Can you–"

"Not yet. You should have brought Johnny. His double ATA would light this place up like a Christmas tree."

"Hell no. Let's go. Which way?"

"Here." Rodney led him down a corridor. Their footfalls were eerily silent in the gloom. "There was a sporadic energy fluctuation about a week ago."

"Time line fits," John noted.

"That's what I'm afraid of," Rodney admitted. "In here."

The two men entered a room. It was dark. Not even emergency lights glimmered when John touched the wall. He shone his P90 light across the gloom. "Looks like a lab of some kind." His light danced over covered equipment. Consoles. Chairs. Large screens that were clear. Blank. The silence was heavy. Although on a lower level and probably underwater the ocean could not be heard. Sound proof walls were never a good thing in a laboratory.

Rodney advanced, using his penlight to make his way across the room. He heard John's snort of derision, ignored it. He abruptly stopped. "Oh oh."

"What? What oh oh?"

"Come look at this." Rodney stepped to a console, yanked off the drapery. "Can you–"

"Yes." John stepped to it, touched it. Concentrated, contacting the city. Lights flared. He turned to see Rodney staring at an enclosed but open pod. "Shit. Is that what I think it is?"

"Yes. Stasis chamber. Same kind of biochemical readings...like the ones on the Aurora. We need Carson down here. It's still got some records in it. Medical stuff...genes...I don't know but Carson will. It's not active now but it was." Rodney pointed to the low energy levels on the screen in front of the device. A light blinked, indicating data was being stored.

"Let me guess...a week ago?" John softly swore. "Right under our noses! How the hell does that happen, Rodney?"

"I have no idea, John. I didn't even know Atlantis had this kind of technology in the city! We really need to start exploring every part of the city."

"Gee, you think?" John snapped.

"Yes, I do! I've only been suggesting that for years, haven't I?"

"Yes, you have!" John shook his head. "Sorry. It's just..."

"Yes, I know. Moira. But she's fine now, right?"

"Yes, she is. Call Carson. I need to know everything that is contained in that device. And you need to figure out how it was used, and why it escaped detection for so long! Crap. Moira will want to see this too. Looks like we just found her doppelganger's hidden lair," he sourly realized.


	5. Chapter 5

And the People Bowed and Prayed5

Moira stared at the pod. Silent. She was aware of the three men staring at her. Waiting for a response. Any kind of response. She swallowed. Took a step towards it. Touched it briefly. Drew back her hand. It felt cold. Alien. She took a step backwards and collided with John. His arm slid round her waist. "Here?" she finally asked.

"Yes, love." Carson's gaze was kind, gentle. "All of the biological scans are yours. A direct interface. The other one was leeching information from you. Literally."

"We couldn't detect it because it had been hibernating," Rodney continued, picking up the thread. "And the power levels were at a bare minimum. Enough to sustain life, but only just. When it...um...when it fed off you the levels would increase but only slightly."

"Moira?" John asked quietly. Strong arm around her. Keeping her close, secure. Safe. His.

She briefly met his gaze. "I...I remember this place. When I couldn't sleep I think I came here." She touched her temple. "I think I remember something...someone...the, the nodules...the..." She closed her eyes briefly. Opened them to view the pod again. "Me, but not me. Not..."

"You may have been sleepwalking. In a very suggestive state of mind. And with the Wraith's psychic capabilities..." Carson left the rest unsaid. How it had been literally draining her of life, of thought. Stealing her DNA. Stealing her memories. Stealing her very identity.

"My God!" Rodney exclaimed, hand to his chest as if a Wraith was going to feed on him. "You are lucky it didn't do worse!"

"We all are," John agreed. "Moira?"

"It...it fed off my mind...it..." She tensed. "It's still doing it. I mean, those weren't nightmares, John!" She met his gaze. Brown eyes wide. "I was really there! And when I'm there that must mean that she's here! She's here with you, John! With the children! The children!"

"Moira, calm down," John began, ignoring the twisting in his own gut at the thought of that thing being with him, with the children.

Moira moved free of him. "When I'm asleep, a light sleep not a heavy sleep she can still access my mind! See through my eyes as I can see through hers! Feel what she feels when she feels what I feel! John! She's seen you, the children, you, when we oh my God!" She clamped a hand over her mouth, but dropped it to her side. "It's starting to happen when I'm awake! Brief moments when I'm there and she's here! What if she takes over and harms one of them, or you? What if she takes over when we, when we...John, John, what if I do wake up in that other Atlantis and can't get back here!"

"Moira, no, that won't happen," John assured, but he understood her horror perfectly.

Moira's words rushed as panic, fear seized her. "What if we switch bodies, switch our conscious minds altogether! John! She will be your wife, the mother of your children, your lover and she will learn everything about Atlantis, all of our codes and strengths as well as weaknesses and I'll be forever trapped in that nightmare with your dark doppelganger and he'll want to fu–"

John grabbed her. "Moira!" he ordered sternly, so sternly that Rodney jumped. John kissed her. A hard, probing kiss that gentled as she calmed, clinging to him. Relaxed as his mouth guided hers. Tongue darting, teasing with the promise of passion, of sensual pleasures. He freed her at last. "Better, baby?"

"Oh sweetie," she whispered, dreamily. Staring at him in melting adoration.

John smiled. Smug that he still had that effect on her, even after years of marriage. Turned to see Carson and Rodney staring. "Sometimes it's the only way to shut her up when she's on a ramble like that."

"John!" She hit his arm. Sobered and looked at the pod. "Subliminal?"

"Aye, love," Carson resumed, as if nothing awkward had occurred. "At the first stages of sleep, but before dreams and REM activity when you are the most vulnerable. The most suggestive. Infiltration. How in the world she can do this between realities terrifies me. But she won't be able to take you over, I'm certain."

"Are you sure?" Rodney asked, shrugged at John's glare. "I'm just saying. Remember Teyla? She was connected to a Wraith and it took her over!"

"This is different. Completely different. Isn't it?" John asked.

"Yes. And no." Carson's gaze was locked with Moira's.

"Spit it out, doc!" John was looking from one to the other. It seemed from shorthand they had progressed to wordless communication now.

"John! I know what I have to do." Moira moved free of her husband. Touched the pod. The clear casing over the narrow cot. The wires that would be attached to her head, to her mind. "I have to go in." There was silence. Then a chorus erupted of vehement denials, refusals. All three men talking at once. Moira silenced them all with a raised hand. "Hear me out. We need to end this. I need to end this. And the only way to do so is to connect with her for a change instead of the other way round."

"She's got a point," Rodney agreed.

"No! It's too dangerous, love! I can't–" Carson began to protest.

"You can monitor me, Carson. Pull me out if you think I'm in danger."

"No. No way, Moira," John decided. Shaking his head.

"John, please. I don't like it either, but it's the only way."

"You're not doing it," he stated flatly.

"John! I have to do it! I won't risk you or the children! I won't let her spy on our lives, or slowly leech me like a parasite! I can't live like this, John. Like I have a foot in each reality, and am forced to jump back and forth with no control. I am taking control, John. You have to trust me on this. You have to trust me."

"Let her do it, John," Rodney agreed. "Otherwise she will be under constant suspicion. She'll be regarded as a spy, however unintentional. What's worse everyone here will be at risk, including yourself. Including me! And you can't risk the children!"

"I won't get trapped there. That's what you think, isn't it?" She moved to him. Touched his chest. "John, don't you worry. I love you. Only you. I won't stay there." She turned. "Carson, you can monitor all biofeedback, right? Brain activity?"

"Yes. I can, but this is too risky, Moira. What if I can't pull you out in time? Who's to say if something catastrophic happens over there it won't happen here? We just don't know that much about the Wraith's psychic abilities, particularly those of a female."

"We're about to learn," she noted. Met John's gaze. He was watching her. Handsome face full of concern, pensive considerations. Love. "Please, John. I have to do this. To end this. Once and for all."

John hated the idea, hating the risk, but he saw no other option. Not able to bear watching her slowly lose pieces of herself, or worse lose memories of their times together. All the little things that made her his Moira. Made her so precious to him. He nodded. Clearly unhappy.

Moira smiled. Kissed him. "Trust me, John." She turned to the pod. Felt a shiver. A dread. "How..."

"Here. I've done this before. In a virtual reality." John opened the pod. "If you think real hard of coming home you should be able to sever the link. Right?"

"Aye, colonel. That should be enough."

"Do I need a pair of red ruby slippers?"she asked, to lighten the mood. But John didn't smile. Nor did Carson. Nor did Rodney.

"If not do something drastic, Moira," Rodney advised. "Like you did when you were trapped in that virtual Atlantis and had cut your wrist to break free of the simulation. A shock to the system to wake yourself out of that reality and back into ours."

She nodded. "Okay. I...okay. How..."

"I'll give you a mild sedative," Carson offered. "It will relax you. Then I hook you to the interface and the monitors. Once you are in a suggestive state–"

"I'll guide you there and back," John interrupted. He pulled Moira to him. Kissed her. "Are you absolutely sure about this?"

"Yes, John. It's the only way."

"Really, really sure?"

"Yes, John."

"Okay, then. Let's get this over with," he grumbled.

Moira closed her eyes. The pod felt like a coffin. It was confining. There was no room to move. She shuddered at the comparison. Her grip tightened on John's hand for a moment. She felt Carson attaching the interface to her temples. Then the sting of a needle in her arm. Then a fuzzy warmth. Her grip relaxed as a calm descended. As her limbs slowly went slack. As fears and concerns began to drift away like clouds.

"Relax, love. Nothing can hurt you here," Carson soothed. He nodded. Checking the data as it scrolled on the screen. Brain waves. Respiration. Heart rate.

John reluctantly freed her hand from his. He kissed her lips, her brow. "Come back to me, Moy," he whispered in her ear. He closed the pod. "Can you hear me, sweetheart?" He rested his hand on top of the pod.

She nodded. His voice sounded close, transmitting from a tiny speaker above her.

"Okay. Listen to my voice, Moira. I'm right here. I won't leave your side, I promise. Relax. You're safe. Think about that other Atlantis. That, that other Johnny. That, that other, other Sheppard." He frowned, gut twisting at that thought, that name. His darker self. "Find that other Moira and kick her ass, would you?"

A smile played on Moira's lips.

John smiled briefly. "You find her, end this, and come home to me, Moira. To us. To our little circle. That's a direct order."

"Yes, colonel," she whispered drowsily.

John glanced at Carson. "How's she doing?"

"Fine. Respiration slowing. Heart rate slowing. She's falling into a light doze. Brain is still alert. Still responding to your voice, John, as she should. She'll be there soon enough."

"Then what?" Rodney asked, arms crossed in front of his chest. He felt useless. Hated that. "We wait?" He began to pace, pace behind the two men.

"We wait," Carson confirmed. "Monitor her for any signs of distress. Moira knows what she needs to do. Trust her."

"I do," John stated, eyes glued to his wife. She appeared to be asleep in the pod. At peace. Face relaxed. Chest rising and falling gently. Hands loosely clasped at her waist. As if she had just decided to take a quick nap, and not challenge her evil doppelganger for complete control of her mind and faculties. John sighed. Waited.

Just waited.

Trusting in Moira's love to complete the mission and to bring her home.


	6. Chapter 6

And the People Bowed and Prayed6

Moira opened her eyes. Except they weren't her eyes. She was in the other woman's body. In a room she recognized as belonging to Sheppard. The other John Sheppard, not her husband. She was in the other Atlantis. She stood. Felt a resistance but quelled it, forcing it down. The room was full of shadows. Cold. She moved stiffly to turn on the lights. Paused to see herself in the reflection of a data pad on the table. If she didn't know any better she would have thought she was looking in a mirror, at a reflection of herself.

Except for the barely visible slits on her cheeks. Except for the odd protuberance she felt in her mouth. Except for the fact she felt like a puppeteer controlling this body, every step, every turn, every motion. It was disconcerting. Peculiar. Like driving a new vehicle. The clothes were ordinary enough. A white t-shirt, olive pants. Her feet were bare, and she wondered at that. Looked down to see both feet unscarred, unlike one of hers. Her real feet, not these borrowed ones.

She turned, hearing a noise. Heavy footsteps. Boot steps which she knew could only belong to one man. She touched the table to steady herself. To control her emotions. "Colonel." The word felt odd in her mouth, but the voice was hers.

Sheppard froze. Looked at her. He was clad in black head to toes. A scruffy beard adorned his handsome, wary face. His green eyes narrowed. He took a step towards her. Another. Tilted his head, assessing. "Moira?"

"Yes, John. Whatever you are planning it won't work. It ends now."

Carson frowned. John glanced at him, as if sensing the doctor's emotion, concern. "What is it?"

"Heart rate is elevated. Brain activity is increasing. I believe she's made contact." The doctor was glued to the monitors. The machines beeped softly. Colored lines filled the screens, tracking Moira's vital signs.

"But she's okay? She's unharmed?" John turned back to his wife. For all intents and purposes she appeared asleep. Caught in a doze, a dream. Twitching slightly.

"Yes. So far."

"If she's there...is that thing here now? In her?" Rodney asked, suddenly nervous. His pacing had stopped abruptly.

"No. I don't think it works that way. Only one can be in control. But the longer Moira stays there the greater the likelihood is that the other one could be here."

"Are you saying they could switch?" Rodney asked, tone rising in alarm.

"No. Moira won't allow that," John asserted. Yet the thought chilled him to the bone.

"John's right. Moira won't let that thing near him or the children. Especially the children."

John nodded. Nevertheless he glanced at the stun gun lying at his feet. A precaution he hoped and prayed he would not have to use.

Like the holstered 9mm at his thigh.

Sheppard slowed. Stood a moment, examining her. Suspicious. Curious. He finally stepped closer. Smiled. "It is you, isn't it? But you've initiated this instead of the other way round. You've come home, Moira."

"No, colonel. I've come to end this. All of this. I was blinded. Because you are a version of John Sheppard I was blinded. But you are nothing, nothing like my husband. My John."

Sheppard frowned. "We are the same, Moira."

"No. I believed that once. Until this. Until you used your own son to distract us from this horrible subterfuge."

"My son needed help which you provided. I just took the opportunity to–"

"Yes, that's what John said. Opportunity. You crossed a line, colonel. A line that my John, my husband would never cross. You put my children in danger! You put the whole city in danger! Even your own son!"

"A contained danger. I knew John would take care of the details. And don't fool yourself. He would cross that line, if necessary. But he wasn't clever enough, was he?" Sheppard gloated.

"He wasn't as devious as you are, colonel. This ends now."

"I'm afraid not, Moira. You fell right into my trap, sweetheart. Now that you are here you will never, ever leave."

"Heart rate's accelerating. Pulse is rapid," Carson noted. There was no undue concern in his Scottish voice but John could hear it just on the brink. Hovering like a shadow.

"Get her out of there," John decided. He touched the pod. It felt cold to his fingers.

"No!" Rodney shook his head. The two men met his gaze. "If you break the connection when she's not ready you risk losing her permanently over there! This interface is much more advanced than the ones we encountered on the Aurora, John! This is not a virtual world but a parallel universe and the connection is controlled by a Wraith! It's reality, John, not a simulation!"

"Are you saying she has to stay there until she decides to return?" John asked.

"Yes. The Wraith is the living link, don't you see? This machine just facilitates it, makes it easier for Moira. The Wraith doesn't need this machine. Moira does."

"If she's in medical distress I am awakening her, I don't care what you say!" Carson declared.

"Then you risk condemning her to live other there in that hybrid body! And that thing will be here in Moira's body! And we don't know how to reverse them. We never will. Frankly, this technology is beyond our understanding, even mine!"

"Something's happening! I can't just sit here and watch her suffer!" Carson reached over to open the pod.

"Stop!" John caught the doctor's arm. "I can't risk that. I won't. We have to trust Moira. It's all down to her now."

The three men eyed the pod and the woman within it. Waiting. Waiting.

Moira took a step away from Sheppard. It was awkward, operating a body not her own. Requiring extra thought instead of automatic reflex. "No. This ends now, colonel. You have to let me go. I don't belong here. I don't belong to you."

"But you do, Moira." He stepped to her. Touched her cheek. The other within responded to him even as Moira fought not to respond. "You belong here and you belong to me. One way or another I will keep you. Think of it, Moira! A human mind in a Wraith hybrid body! You could infiltrate a hive ship! Bring the last Wraith to their knees with my help! Rule over them as queen. Yes," he continued to her shocked expression, "another opportunity. As you know I have had to align with a few Wraith factions against a common enemy. But they need a queen to rule them. That is their way, as you know. You and I, we could effectively rule them, keep them under our thumb until we had no further use for them."

Moira shook her head. Appalled. "My God...you...you want...you want to rule the galaxy?"

He laughed. "Of course not, sweetheart! We only need to control certain factions in it. To keep us safe, to keep our children safe." His hand slid down to touch her abdomen. "You can control a pregnancy now, bring our child safely to term. A brother for Johnny. A child not only gifted with a double ATA but also with Wraith genetic material. He would be unstoppable! You see? I have thought of everything. You can even call him Seamus if you so wish. Replace the other family that you've lost."

Moira gulped. Heart thudding. Shock rendering her speechless for a moment. Words strangled in her throat. But she felt the presence within and shoved it back down to resume control. At the same time keeping it in place, now allowing it to enter her own body back in her own Atlantis. Horror washed through her. "No. No...I won't allow that," she whispered. Part of her screaming for her husband, her John to rescue her. But the thought of her sons and daughter strengthened her resolve. "Would you truly keep me from my own children? Deprive them of their own mother? You endured that. How can you do the same to mine?"

Sheppard glowered. But his touch was still gentle. Hand sliding up to her cheek again. "You give me no option, Moira. You refused my invitation to visit me. You refused to come here with my son. You refused to guide him back to me to care for him."

"You mean your trap didn't work. John figured it out. John saved me," she argued.

He briefly smiled. "Yes, he did out think me on that one. Clever bastard. But not clever enough, as you are here now. In my clutches."

"The John Sheppard I know would never inflict such heartless suffering on innocent children! Or on those he loved! You don't love me, colonel. You love the idea of me. This image you've created in your head, a pastiche of our times together, but it means nothing! Nothing!"

"No! It means everything, Moira! I lost you once. I won't lose you again."

"You lost her. Not me. Let me go, John. Please. This ends now. It's destroying the both of us, can't you see that?"

"So you do have feelings for me," he surmised. Grasping her arms to pull her closer to him.

"For John Sheppard, but they aren't real. They never were." She felt her eyes fill with tears. She touched his face. "Not for you. Not for you. For him. Just for him. You are not the same as him, and never will be. John...you give me no choice."

"There's always a choice, Moira. Please..." The pain in his eyes was real. The naked need. Desperation.

Moira steeled herself. Felt herself wavering, about to give into this John Sheppard, the one more damaged than her husband, the one who had such darkness in him that only she could truly understand. But she thought of her John, her children. They needed her more. She drew his gun from his holster and shoved free of him. "I'm sorry, John."

Sheppard smiled. The gun was shaking in her hands. "You'd kill me? You can't have an Atlantis without a Sheppard," he chastised.

"True. But you can have one without me. Goodbye, John." She turned the gun towards herself. Saw his realization come too late as she pulled the trigger. Saw his anguish as he grabbed for her. As the bullet pierced her heart.

As she died in his arms with his voice calling her name, a mixture of outrage, anger and despair. The last thing she would ever hear. The last thing she would ever feel as he crumpled her to his chest. Blood soaking them both now. Heart pumping, pumping. Then it stopped.

All went black.

"Damn it! She's flat lining!"

"What?" John stared as the monitor's readings all changed to a single line. A loud beeping warning that the patient was in imminent danger of dying. Moira was thrashing violently in the pod. "Moira!" He flung it open. "Get her out of there now! Get–" John's words froze as she collapsed. Went still.

Carson froze, trying to administer a stimulant. He set it aside. Felt her pulse. "Good Lord...she's...she's..." He couldn't say the words. He gulped.

"No! She can't be!" Rodney exclaimed, frozen in place. Time seemed to stop for a brief second. The three men staring at her, at a complete loss.

"Moira?" John asked quietly. Disbelief. Dread. Voice strangling in emotion.

Carson shook his head. "She's gone, John. Moira's gone. She's...she's dead."

John stared at the inert form of his wife. He shoved the doctor aside. "No, no, NO! Moira!" He took hold of her arms. Gently shook her. "Moira! Don't you dare leave me! Don't you dare leave me with three little kids, damn it! Moira! Moira!"


	7. Chapter 7

And the People Bowed and Prayed7

Moira gasped, struggling for air. Thrashed. Fought but someone was holding her down. Pinning her in place. She grabbed onto the arms restraining her. Fighting to be free, to be out of this coffin, to be alive. She opened her eyes. "John! John! John!"

"I'm here, Moy, I'm here!" The relief washing over John was a wave, taking his breath away, making his heart stop, then race wildly.

"John, John, get me out of here!" she cried, hysterical.

"Hold on, sweetheart!" He removed the interface from her temples. Lifted her out of the pod and stood, setting her onto her feet, his arms securely around her. "Moy?"

She was breathing heavily, shock on her face. Fear. She stared at him, at Carson, at Rodney. Brown eyes huge. She looked back at John. Her John. Her husband. Her Atlantis. In her own body once more. "John? John!" She burst into tears, crumpled into his embrace.

John's arms enfolded her tightly. He kissed her brow. "Ssh."

"Well, we know it's our Moira, thank God!" Carson smiled. Tears in his eyes. Tears of relief.

"Do we? I mean, are we sure?" Rodney asked.

"I'm sure!" John declared. Eyed the two men who were staring. "Give us a minute here. Go!" John bellowed. Once they were gone he hid his face in her hair, breathing in the scent of her, his Moira. Feeling her very alive as she clung to him, sobbing. He felt tears but forced them aside, away. Concentrating on the woman in his arms. Caressing her back. Bestowing light kisses along her temple, her cheek.

The world had closed around them. To only them in that moment. Only John. Only Moira. There was no one else. Just two people clinging to each other, as if they had been lost and now were found. Had found each other. At last.

Moira calmed. She lifted her head, fingers freeing his now damp black t-shirt. Wordlessly he handed her a handkerchief. She smiled briefly, took it. Turned away to wipe her eyes, to blow her nose. She pocketed the handkerchief. Turned back to him. Unable to meet his gaze. She touched his chest again as his arms went round her. "John? I...I had to end it."

"I know, Moy. It's all right," he soothed. He could feel the tide of emotion in her. The trembles in her body. Her voice was soft, unsteady.

"No, you don't. He...he didn't give me a choice. Oh John, he wouldn't listen to me. He refused to let me go. You wouldn't believe it, John! His talk of, of taking over the Wraith factions, making me a queen there, having a, a child with me to, to replace our Seamus, to rule the, the galaxy's fighting factions, to, to, to...and I had to end it, John, I had to end it once and for all! To protect you, to protect our children, our children! There was no other way! I shot her. I killed her...me...her...I felt her die. I felt myself die. I saw the utter anguish on his face as I pulled the trigger and killed it, me, it..."

John kissed her. A deep kiss, halting her tremulous words as he tilted her face up to his. Angled her mouth to his. Kiss after kiss as he absorbed her shocking words, her confession of murder. Not shocked. Not appalled. Relieved she had done what needed to be done. Kiss after kiss until Moira found herself suddenly hoisted onto a table.

"John?" she asked, startled. Arms round his neck as he parted her thighs to move closer.

"Sorry," he said gruffly. "I just...um..I almost lost you, Moy." A sheepish expression crossed his handsome face. He shrugged.

"Oh."

"Oh? That's it? Keep talking to me, Moy. Are you sure you're all right, sweetheart?"

"There was no kindness."

"What?"

"There was no kindness," she repeated solemnly. "In his eyes. None. There is always kindness in yours. In your eyes. Even when you are pissed at me."

"Well, yeah, I mean, of course. I love you, Moy. I'd never hurt you."

"I know. I just...I...I killed her, John." She suppressed a sob. Losing herself in his brilliant green eyes. "I...I took her from him. I denied him the, the..." She couldn't say more. Could see John's flare of anger, jealousy, however briefly before concern resumed in his eyes.

"You did what you had to do, Moira. To sever the connection. To protect our children. To protect me. To protect us. The city. Everything. You did the right thing, sweetheart." He kissed her. "Never doubt that, Moira. Never." He kissed her again, stepping closer, closer still. His body brushing hers now. Arousal obvious.

She drew back, puzzled. "John? You...you...now?" She glanced down at his crotch.

He smiled at her surprise. "Yeah. Now. But we'll have to wait Carson will want to run a full scan to be sure you are okay. All the bells and whistles, I'm sure. Then we need to see to the kids. Then, well, it will just be us, baby. You. Me."

"Okay, sweetie." She scooted off the table as he stepped back. She hugged him again. "John. Don't ever let go. Don't ever let go," she muttered.

He kissed her brow. "I won't let go, Moira. Ever."

Moira stood near the bunk beds. Each little boy was in his pajamas. Tucked into the blankets with their favorite toys. She kissed each one. "Now, go to sleep, boys. Everything is fine."

"Okay, mommy. Goodnight," Johnny said.

"Goodnight, darling."

"Goodnight, mommy," Seamus said.

"Goodnight, honey."

"Goodnight, daddy!" Seamus shouted. Giggled hearing his father's growling reply from the other room.

Moira smiled. "Ssh! Don't wake the bear! Goodnight, boys. I love you."

"Love you, mommy," Johnny assured.

"I love mommy. Love daddy!" Seamus shouted. Giggled as John bellowed at them.

"Love you too now hush!"

Moira laughed. Kissed each one again. She entered the nursery. Kissed the sleeping baby. Stood watching the infant for a moment. "Goodnight, Emily."

She entered her bedroom. Softly closed the door behind her. John was seated at the table. The blue glow of the data pad bathing his handsome profile. It was the only illumination in the room. She walked towards him. Conscious of her fuzzy socks on the floor. She felt the cool air on her bare legs and up the nightshirt. "John?" She touched his shoulders, standing behind him. Kneading the tension under his navy t-shirt.

"Protocols," he informed before she could ask. He made a noise, enjoying her attentions. Eyes on the screen as he inputted data. Long fingers tapping the keyboard.

"For the city? About, about me?"

"Yes. Specifics."

She frowned. Massaging his neck and his back. He grunted, shifting under her touch. "John, what would you do? I mean if you...if I was gone?" His fingers stopped on the keyboard. "I mean, if you found yourself a, a widower with three little children to raise. Would you marry again?"

"What the hell kind of question is that?" he snapped. Closed the data pad. Glared at nothing.

Moira massaged his shoulders again. "In light of recent events I think it's an apt one. I'm just curious, that's all."

"Curious?" he muttered.

"Yes. What would you do? You'd have to hire Maggie full-time, of course. But would you ever consider–"

"Stop this!" He turned in the chair to face her. "I don't want to talk about this, Moy!"

"I think we should, John. Talk about it." She was serious. Grave. She sat in the chair next to his. Took his hands into hers. "You always have a contingency plan, colonel. I presumed you would have had one even for this."

"Then you presumed wrong. I don't."

"Then you need one, John. I–"

"No. Fuck this." He freed his hands, stood. Towered over her. "I wanted to have sex, baby. But now your curiosity has put me out of the mood. Goodnight." He crossed to the bed. Slid under the blankets, pissed.

She smiled. He seemed to have no idea how incredibly sexy he was when he was pissed at her. "Sorry, sweetie. Wow. John Sheppard not in the mood for sex? I don't think that has ever happened!"

"Hilarious, Moy!"

She stood. Moved into the bed next to him. "I'm serious, John. I'll have to check my journal but I don't think you have ever, ever, ever been out of the mood for sex."

"Go to sleep, damn it!" He rolled onto his side, away from her.

Moira smiled. Spooned up against him. Kissed his cheek, his throat. "Jo-hn," she teased in his ear. Gently nibbled. Bit.

"Won't work."

"Oh?" She slid her hand down his hip. Over to his crotch. Gently caressing the length of him trapped in the pajama bottoms. Stroking against the cotton fabric. "Hmm...seems like something is interested, sweetie."

John was trying not to smile. Not to enjoy her seductions, her attentions, and teasing. "He might be but I'm not. Go to sleep, Moy."

She kissed his throat. "Are you sure, sweetie?" She grasped, squeezing as he hardened under her touch. "You may not want to have sex but your cock sure does."

He snorted. Batted her hand off him. "Hilarious, Moira. My cock always wants it, yeah, but I don't. Now behave yourself and go to sleep." Yet he rolled onto his back.

She smiled. Kissed his lips. "Jo-hn," she sighed. Hands sliding to down his chest, his waist to his cock again. "Fine, sweetie. You go to sleep then. Me and your ordnance will just do fine without you, colonel. Won't we, little colonel?" She slipped under the covers, sliding down his body.

John snorted with amusement. Groaned with arousal as she ran kisses along his waist. She was tugging at his pajama bottoms. Drawing them off as he obligingly moved. Her hair tickled his thighs. Her mouth nibbled his pelvis as she took firm hold and stroked, stroked. He moaned, shifting as she ran her mouth along the hard, hard length of him. "Ah fuck," he breathed, surrendering in anticipation. "Moira," he growled.

Moira freed him. Slid up, popping out of the blankets. "Why do you taste like peppermint?"


	8. Chapter 8

And the People Bowed and Prayed8

"Huh?" John was completely thrown by the question.

Moira giggled at his bafflement. "Oh! It must be my lip gloss, sweetie! Sorry!" She kissed him. "Go back to sleep, John. I'll be fine with the little colonel, don't you worry now." She slid back under the blankets. "Wow...I mean then not so little colonel!" she exclaimed.

John laughed. "Take your time, baby. Please. Ah fuck, now what?" he snapped as she freed him yet again. Slid up and moved free of the blankets to meet his gaze.

She smiled. "It's weird. The peppermint, I mean."

"Since when do you wear lip gloss anyway?" he questioned.

"It makes you easier to slide and suck, sweetie. All that ordnance," she purred, licking her lips. She giggled, slid down him again.

"You better stop calling it little then, and oh fuck," he sighed as she kissed along his erection. Nibbling up to the sensitive head. Circling. He jerked, straining as she teased, toyed with him. Didn't take him into her mouth. "Moy! Moira, damn it!"

She laughed. Flung the covers off her. "John? Do you want to have sex now? Hmm...maybe it's just tease John's cock day again."

He smiled. "It's fuck Moira's sweet little pussy until she screams day, actually."

"John! Language! Fucking soldier!"

He laughed. "You're about to, baby, my oh my you are about to!" He grabbed her, rolled her onto her back. She squirmed, squealed as he tickled her, kissing her hard. He yanked up the nightshirt, fingers clawing at the panties blocking his way. But not for long.

"John! Oh John, John!"

"Ssh! You'll wake them!" he warned. Chuckled low as she whimpered, squirming. His fingers were bringing her, bringing her relentlessly. "Fucking sweet," he growled. "Fucking tight little pussy is mine, all mine, every fucking inch is mine!"

"Ssh! John, oh John!"

"Quiet, damn it! Do I need to gag you, baby?" He shoved her legs apart. Kissed her again, this time slowly. He sat, tore off his shirt. She wiggled out of the nightshirt. He smiled. Moved over her. "That's more like it, baby."

"Oh John! John, John, John!" she enthused under him. Blissful under his attentions his caresses and kisses. Arousing her wildly. Steadily. "John!"

"Ssh! Not so loud, baby...ah. There it is," he growled.

Moira sighed happily, surrendering to his every seduction. The motion of his body on hers. His nimble, long fingers and dexterous tongue. Mouth sucking, sucking at her breasts, gently biting to make her moan, arch, thrust up into him. Legs spread wide, shoving up against his cock. "John! Oh John, oh God! God! John, please! John, please, please! Full fucking throttle, John, please, please! John!" Her nails raked down his bare back.

John smirked at her exuberance, her need. It matched his own. The insatiable longing, the lust. He kissed her. Teasingly ran his cock along her damp cleft. Felt her open, ready. "How do you want it, baby? Hmm?" he asked, voice gruff.

"Oh John! Rough! Rough!" she enthused, squirming. As if she could slide him into her. She grabbed his arms. "John!"

"Ssh! All right, baby! Hold on. You hold on real tight now. I'll fuck you into next week, baby!"

She laughed. "Yes! Oh yes, John! Fuck me into next week! John! John!" she cried as he thrust into her at last. Hard. Eager. Began a rough, fast rhythm.

"Fuck, fuck, fuck!" he grunted. "Fuck! Tighter, baby! Here we go!"

Noises. Voices rising and falling. The energetic creaking of a bed. Faster and faster and faster still. A melodious chiming of the brass headboard as it slammed, slammed, slammed the wall. A thud as books fell off the bedside table. A continual knocking on the wall.

"Mommy?" Seamus sat, staring round the darkened room. The noises were loud. Scary. City lights played gently on the wall, reassuringly. "Mommy!"

"Ssh!" Johnny rolled, peered over the edge down at his little brother. "It's okay, Seamus."

Seamus looked up at his older brother. "What that?"

"Mommy and daddy happy sounds."

"I want mommy!" Seamus scrambled out of the bed.

"No! You can't! Daddy will be mad!" Johnny slid down the ladder, ran to his little brother. "Remember? Daddy said to never, never interrupt happy sounds. Unless it is really, really important."

"What happy sounds?"

"I dunno. A game mommy and daddy play. Daddy said it's only for mommy and daddy."

"Oh. I want mommy!"

"Seamus, no!" Johnny tried to stop him, but Seamus ran to the closed door.

John fell onto his wife. "Fuck," he rasped into her hair. Laughed. "Damn, baby, that was some seriously fine fucking exuberance."

"Oh John," she enthused, catching her breath. Drowning in orgasm after orgasm after orgasm. She caressed his arm. "It must be next week, sweetie!"

He laughed. "Yeah, I...oh crap."

"What?"

He lifted his head. Kissed her. "We're about to be invaded. Get dressed." He rolled off her, sat and pulled on his pajamas.

"Fuck," Moira muttered, causing John to laugh. She scrambled into her nightshirt.

Suddenly the door opened. Lights flared. "I want mommy! Mommy, mommy, mommy!" Seamus ran to her, nearly in tears. Almost tripping over his own feet.

"Daddy, daddy, I tried to stop him!" Johnny cried, following.

"Mommy!" Seamus climbed onto the bed and launched himself into her lap.

"Honey? What's wrong?" She enfolded him in a hug. Kissed him, cuddled him. "Seamus?"

"It's all right, Johnny," John soothed as the little boy neared. "What's wrong?"

"I dunno. I told him to wait for happy sounds to stop but he won't."

"Wouldn't. It's okay, sport."

"Seamus? It's all right, honey. Mommy's here." She kissed him again.

"Seamus? What's wrong?" John asked, touching the little boy's back.

The little boy blushed suddenly. Cuddled against his mother, calmed. Emily started to cry.

"Great," John complained with a sigh. He got out of the bed. "I'll get her. Johnny, come with me. Hang on, Ems!" he called. "Daddy's on the way!" He exchanged a glance with Moira.

Moira smiled. His look of exasperation adorable. She kissed her son. "There now, honey. Tell mommy what's wrong. Did you have a bad dream?" The little boy nodded. "I see. Can you remember any of it?" The little boy shook his head. "All right. Everything's fine, see? It's all right. And you know what? Daddy can make all scary things disappear. Don't you worry." She kissed him, stroked his dark hair. "Bad dreams can't hurt you."

John returned, carrying the fussy baby. Johnny followed on his heels. "Is he okay?"

"I guess. Emily?"

"Fine, just scared by the noise." He smiled. "I told you, Moy, you were too loud."

"I thought you liked me loud, sweetie."

"True." He watched as Johnny climbed onto the bed, snuggled next to his mother. She kissed him, hugged him. "Looks like we all need to sleep here for a bit."

"Daddy! Daddy, I need Mr. Woolly!"

"Oh? All right, Seamus. Need anything, junior?"

"No, daddy, I'm fine," Johnny replied, as if needing such toys were beneath him now.

"Okay, then." He shook his head. Set the baby onto her mother's lap. He quickly moved to retrieve the toy. Returned to find all the children clustered near their mother. Cuddled like kittens. John smiled. "Here, son." He gave the woolly mammoth plush toy to Seamus. Got into the bed next to them. Slid his arm around his wife, drawing her close as the children settled. He dimmed the lights. "So much for round two," he groused.

Moira kissed him. "Sorry, colonel. Maybe later. All right, boys, Emily. Go to sleep now. Everything is fine." She kissed each child as she sat, holding them.

"No."

"Huh?" she asked, as John's quiet voice startled her.

"The answer to your question earlier. No. I wouldn't."

"You...huh?" Moira frowned, trying to remember. Realized. "Oh. Oh! You...you wouldn't? You wouldn't remarry? You really should reconsider, John. The children would need–"

"You. So no. I wouldn't. End of story. It's you, or no one. For all of us. Now let's close this subject, Moy. You're here and always will be. I won't let go."

She smiled. Kissed him. "All right, colonel. Don't let go, John. Don't let go."

"I'll never let go, Moira."

"Don't let go, John."


	9. Chapter 9

And the People Bowed and Prayed9

"John!" Moira cried. She clutched at uselessly at wet grass as one of the creatures dragged her towards the bushes.

John whirled again. "Lorne!" he shouted, dropping his P90 to lunge towards Moira's rapidly retreating form. He grabbed her outstretched hands as Evan fired at the Wraith pulling her.

"Don't let go!" she desperately urged. Even as his grasp slipped.

"I won't!" he assured, clutching at her sleeves, then her wrists, shoving himself along with her. "Hold on!"

He braced himself, pulling at her. Fingers slipping, sliding.

Their gazes locked. Locked and held, held. And in that moment, that briefest of moments John saw everything. Everything that could be between them. A whole lifetime. A relationship, love, sex, marriage, children. A whole future playing in his mind in the blink of an eye. A whole life with this woman, a life he never would have dared imagine with any woman. A future. Every nuance imagined, felt, tasted. It was so real, so fast. So vivid. Then it was gone.

"John! Don't let go! John!" Moira cried.

"I won't! I won't let go!" John shouted.

He let go.

Rodney walked through the cafeteria. Unusually quiet. Downcast, even. He nodded at Teyla Emmagan, at Ronon Dex. Shrugged at Evan, at Carson. He reached the back of the room. The last table where a single occupant sat. Brooding, as he had been for the past week. A cup of coffee in front of him. Neglected. Rodney sat across from him. Set down another cup of coffee. "John."

John met his gaze. Circles under his eyes. He hadn't been sleeping much, if it all. Stubble lined his handsome face. He glanced at the cup, back to his friend. Misery in his eyes. "Drew the short straw, did you?" he quipped, but the humor did not reach his eyes.

"Huh? Oh..." Rodney glanced back to see their friends watching. Then all looked away, as if guilty of eavesdropping. Not that they could hear the two men seated in the very back of the cafeteria. "Yes. I guess."

John was silent. Eyed the two cups of coffee.

"John, talk to me. At least talk to me, or Elizabeth will have you sent to Earth for a full psychological evaluation. Please, John, we're all worried about you. This last mission, to that planet full of prehistoric animals. It...it really hit you hard. Losing that cryptozoologist. What was her name?"

"Moira. Moira O'Meara," John answered quietly. Even the name hurt. "Paleozoologist."

"Yes, whatever. Look, I know how hard it is to lose a member of this expedition. God knows we've been through that time and time again. Why has this one hit you so hard? Because she was a civilian? Because it was her first mission off-planet?"

"No."

"No? Then why, John? Were you...were you involved with her?"

"No." But John swallowed. It was killing him. He had to tell someone. Even if it did get him committed. He took a breath, released it. "Yes."

"Huh? I'm sorry, what?"

"Yes. I mean...I let go."

"You tried your best, John! You nearly got killed yourself! You did everything in your power to save her. Like you do for everyone in danger. Don't blame yourself. You did everything–"

"I saw."

"Saw what?"

"Us. The future. I...it was so real. All of it. As I tried to save her. As my fingers slipped from her wrists, from her hands, from her fingers. Our eyes locked. She begged me to save her. I said I would. And then I saw..." He swallowed.

"Saw what?" Rodney asked, leaning over the table. John's voice had dropped to almost a whisper.

"I saw...what we had. Could have had. It was so real. I saw our lives, Rodney. After I saved her. We became involved, romantically. We dated. We broke up, got back together. We got married. We had kids. We had three kids, can you believe that?" He smiled briefly, so briefly. "We had a life here, in Atlantis. Faced countless dangers and incredible challenges, but we did it together. As a couple, as a family. A real family. I saw all of it. In the blink of an eye. In the time it took for me to lose her I saw our future. Then it was gone. Like she was. I...I let go."

Rodney stared, having no idea what to say. John was looking at the cup of coffee. Morose. Embarrassed but miserable. Grieving a life he had never had, a woman he had never even kissed much less dated or married or had a family with. Rodney opened his mouth to speak. Closed it. Opened it again. "I...I'm sorry. I don't know what to say."

John met his gaze. "I know. That's the thing, Rodney. There's nothing to say. Not a damn thing."

"Um, John, maybe, maybe if you talked to Heightmeyer, or–"

"No." John stood. A flash of defiance in his green eyes. Anger. Grief. Emotions he knew all too well. They were old, familiar companions. But never had he felt them this keenly, this savagely. "It's just...it was so fucking real, Rodney. And the pity is...I'll never have that. Never have the chance now. Because I let go. I let go."

Rodney watched his friend leave the mess hall. He was at a complete loss. He met the worried glances of his team, his friends. Shrugged. There was nothing he could do. There was nothing anyone could do.

How do you console someone over losing a life that never actually happened?

John stood in his quarters. Looking round the room. It was Spartan, except for his things. The golf clubs in the corner. A guitar. The Johnny Cash poster on the wall. Some books on a table. There was nothing else. Nothing that didn't belong to him. No woman's things. No children's things. Only his things.

He stood.

Listening.

But there were no sounds. Nothing to hear. There was no woman's voice, teasingly calling his name. No woman's voice exulting in sexual pleasure or rambling in endless Latin.

There was no woman to call his name.

There were no children's voices. No calls of need or excitement. No babbling of an infant. No joyous sounds of children's laughter. Not even the sound of a dog barking a greeting.

There were no children to call him daddy.

There was nothing.

Nothing.

John stood alone in his quarters.

Listening.

Listening to the sound.

The sound of silence.


End file.
